Dan Bartlett via NASA; I found it here.
Empty eyes
claim the world
It was the Man’s dawn and you came here
now you are back, so labelling our sunset
Empty eyes
own the world
February, 12th 2023
Tag Archives: apostasy
Voyager
My friend Lilli said me to meditate about Voyager. I did it.
Mystery sucks in me here and my
everlasting night casts off each hope
In this absolute and frozen darkness
without life or engines
I run, run
meaningless, cut off from
all the world
So are you now.
You look at the dust,
yet the light fills you but
you run
blind
February, 24h 2023
Blood waves
Stuff written watching last Solfrid paint, the one here above in a sequence of two, named 1a and 1b. Blood waves is only the title of my stuff.
Anyway, I’m happy she restarted to paint!
Blood waves grow and branch out till the canvas
shows no more than a crimson large space.
Like a nightmarish time we do live
here and now during such odd bad days
Without thinking we go ahead. We
manage sadness with dreams and love hopes
Yet emotion is only instincts’ slave
so denies space to reason and knowledge
I felt never myself silly as
in the present time when evils swell
up again showing terrible faces
to an old feeble mankind that falls
Blood waves arise like warped image
and fill a second canvas with pain
that increases and enters my mind.
Absurd war and apostasy. Death
SL – Peaceful Land, April, 9th 2022
Dry earth
Pic found here
Dry earth, tired of dust moans at my
footsteps so that a weird and odd creaking
cries chords of a life that’s something missing.
“Water!” begs the desert of each meaning
Dry earth is now as dust where I walk
tired, listening to silence of
no one rising from flat dark nowhere:
empty meaningless space of these days
I’m dry earth. I need fresh dew that could
flow and be both allusion and notice
to spring turgors, now, nowadays lost.
My skin is filling with lines and pains.
Here the earth dries up and wears out more
the day that folds itself to the night
senseless of one who is slave of instinct.
Give us You, water and light that’s missing
March, 28th 2022
2nd – East
Flag of the Czar Peter the Great, found here
This is the second part of a thought titled West – East. See West for its first part.
In a world turned to its first age
made of bright past distinction and strength,
of lost lands and revenges and grudge,
through that world, through such world now I pass
I see strange odd landscapes there, outside,
and molasses that dulls each weak mind,
showed off richness and depravation
of those who have all things yet no sense
Without rules, Mankind sinks:
you are just perverse thrills
with no reason that hold and govern,
you are a feeble meeting of ghosts
I give meaning to history. I claim
and demand both my role and each thing
that the corrupt West took off from us.
Freedom to be as slaves I propose
March, 12th 2022
1st – West
JB, March 2020
When I wrote this stuff I did not know that a war would have been in Ukraine.
This is the first part of a thought titled West – East.
There’s a world made by dreams and splendours
which grasp all moments stacking them useless,
where there is no more value nor meaning.
Through that world, through such world now I pass
I see strange landscapes and a thick mist
floating over each thing, fading it,
sticking itself to any place, forcing
each poor mind to gestures with no use
Without rules, Mankind sinks
in its ancient beast ‘s cravings
and love is right and rape,
like each thing, instinct’s wage
Without sense to run to, Mankind rules
have no value. Each soul
becomes weird; everything soon dries up.
Freedom turns to be slaves
December, 13th 2021
I see
JB, February 2020
I see turgors in grass in my garden
waiting for spring and their life explosion
I see lizards enjoying firsts warm suns
stretching bodies to taste their new lives
I see bees looking for early flowers
to prepare their next lives at this time
after winter’s blind darkness. Sleep. Cold.
I see nature that wants to be alive
I feel turgors in my lazy soul
I see tulips now ready to burst.
My two lips are so dried after winter
with no flesh love. I’m puzzled again
I see wars also in Europe where we
lost real freedom denying view of truth
looking for power, money. Nonsenses.
Where messiahs are now kings so proud. Fakes.
I see mankind so weak, I see sins
everywhere, in my soul, in each one.
Our fight against faith brought those fruits
under so lovely blue deep nice skies
I see people alone in their cages
built by evil and alien bad strengths
against peace, Beauty, sense. Against God.
After this so long Lent we need more
February, 28th 2022
Gaslight
JB 2021. Horror Museum: the last SL Terry work
Kristine suggested me this intriguing word: gaslight.
She also sent me this link, because I did not undersand what she meant. This is my silly joke (?) about it.
Gaslight might
be as an evil sight
burning air
old trace of
something live
no more fight
Death who bites
Gaslight is
something old,
aged word with weird taste
in the night
A pale lamp, steampunk stuff
something yellow
in the dark heavy fog
at the docks
pain and blight
Maybe ill brightness as
a thin cloud
like a bad fairy light
lost and creepy landscapes
maybe green, maybe yellow
as a ghost
maybe like fireflys cloud
otherwise
will-o’-wisp
bluish flame on wild field
a fire that does not burn
greenish grass or dead shrubs
dried plants
fruit of hidden decay
underground, rubbish rot
corpses trace
Gaslights change colours, things
make reality weird
so we fail, full of doubts.
Someone acts like gaslight
Psychological crime
that ruins our minds
in this new bad pale world
making me be unsure
about me
falsifying real life
and reality too
Puzzling fire, scary fire
sign of death
with no smoke
a ghost that has no face
without shape
Gaslight might
be as an evil sight
burning air
old trace of
something live
no more fight
Death who bites
my home, October, 7th 2021
A white pain
Something soft, as grey mist
spreads across this small world
not like that red death mask
nor as black terror plague
sweetly it kills us now
I need eyes to watch in
I need hands to hold tight
I need friends to be close
I need love to be me
Something like a white pain
rides together with this
new weird virus and makes
mankind dull, forcing us
towards dreams
I need facts truly true
to be alive, to be far
from death innate in dreams
to be out
from that white without shape
Someone says that a man
resurrected by death
and He lives in his Church.
I decide to trust them
I need Christ who saves me
I need Him to change me
I need Him, to be me
Deep into
those clear eyes
I met Him
With those hands
He bears me
He was
is
in those friends
Unbelievable peace
April, 17th 2021
Lazarus’ Sunday
JB, now.
Well, I think it is very silly to share captions to some words, yet I must say that this is the first time I tag a stuff with coronavirus and apostasy too. My first time. I see a connection there and I must shout it.
Thank you Kristine for your contribution to open my eyes. Thank you. Be good.
This my dying vine sprouts
dry brown buds on wood branch
without lifeblood or hope
to be tender green leaves
There’s no more spring in mankind,
in this endless and soft feral feria
enveloping us in a pale stuff
where each thing becomes laziness
Lazarus also sleeps, still in silence,
bloodless and under white linen shrouds
waiting for life that is still suspended.
Anyway, all we are now death sick
I’m my dying vine with brown
sprouts that dry on branch wood
without lifeblood or hope
to be tender green leaves
First of all, it is not this disease
to bite life: it is sloth that fades us
like confused grey fog and cancels
every bud rush toward flowers burst
What I say is the world of rich’s evil,
sin of those who enjoy present-days,
even if dull, whilst deny salvation.
I am guilt like apostate is.
I am that dying vine and no sprout
I show but dry ones on my branch wood
They are without lifeblood nor they can
show a hope to be tender green leaves
March, 21st 2021
The skin of the angels 